


Easy Like Sunday Morning

by kelios



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Shower Sex, Voyeurism, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:34:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24262906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelios/pseuds/kelios
Summary: Well, Samuelisa hunter, after all.
Relationships: Sam/Dean, Sam/Samuel, Samuel/AUDean
Comments: 6
Kudos: 65





	Easy Like Sunday Morning

**Author's Note:**

> I borrowed the idea of marriage/sex between soulmates being acceptable even between relatives from @JackJayLove and her amazing IG thread on twitter.

Samuel and Dean settle into the bunker quickly, clearly at ease in the less than luxurious surroundings despite their upbringing. They all fall into their own patterns with relative ease, so Sam is surprised when he goes to shower on the fourth morning and Samuel is already there, standing there under the spray. His back is turned to Sam, and it's...unexpected. They'd _said_ they were hunters, but they didn't act like any hunters Sam had ever met, too soft and clean and bright and Sam had scoffed to himself at the idea. But here--now--Sam can see that he was wrong. Muscles ripple under water and taut skin as Samuel raises his arms to rinse his hair, pulling at the network of scars that is both familiar and...not. 

Sam feels like he's trapped in one of those _find the differences_ puzzles that he and Dean had loved as kids. Long silky hair, finally free of it’s ridiculous bun--check. Moles scattered like constellations across his shoulders--Sam knows where his are because Dean has kissed them a thousand times each. Check. Soft breathy sigh as he soaps his chest, so sensitive, and Sam’s breath hitches in tandem with Samuel’s when he cups his no doubt half hard dick with a soapy hand, arousal flickering along every nerve. _Check_.

There's no scar at the base of Samuel's spine, that's another thing Sam notices, eyes dropping involuntarily to check, and wow. Sam’s cheeks heat up, that flicker ramping up just a little because there's no missing Samuel's tightly sculpted ass or the way it flexes when he stretches. It’s weird to be thinking about what’s essentially himself this way, but what about his life _isn’t_ weird? Sam pushes both feelings away, relief blooming at the thought that maybe this Sam and this Dean hadn't gone through literal hell, but he can't miss the other scars. A bullet scar on his left shoulder, puckered and red. A thick, twisted line running the length of one calf, three almost parallel lines marring the perfect cut of one slim hip. Sam steps forward without meaning to, breath coming faster, so intent on cataloging the differences and similarities between them that when Samuel turns around and inhales sharply all Sam can see is that his chest is bare, no tattoo inking Dean into his heart. Even then, Sam looks down, not up--not at Sam's dick, long and slim and cut like Sam's own but at his hands where they hang by his sides. Big, wide palms. Long, thick fingers, still elegant for all their size, the knuckles red and so crosshatched with scars that Sam wonders how he ever let a manicure and clear coat distract him.

"Sam?" Samuel says, soft and surprised. "I'm sorry--is this when you normally shower? I'll just--"

"I'm sorry," Sam interrupts, just as softly. "We--I--" He reaches for Samuel's hand, not surprised when he flinches slightly before relaxing into watchful stillness. Samuel allows his hand to be taken, makes a small, pleased sound when Sam’s thumb runs over his scarred knuckles. "I was wrong about you," Sam says simply, and Samuel smiles. Shrugs. 

"We aren't entirely like you," he agrees. "We hide the violence of who we truly are from most of the world. To put clients at ease, to show a pretty face to the cameras. Because we enjoy it, sometimes." He smiles again, secret and small, with an edge that sends another frisson of unexpected heat shimmering up Sam's spine. "After all, we all have our secrets, don't we?"

Sam watches as Samuel closes the slight distance between them. His lips part, eyes widening, but it’s not fear quickening his pulse. He doesn’t have to look down to see that Samuel’s hard; he can feel the heat radiating from him, the echo of his own growing arousal. 

“Some secrets don’t have to be kept,” Samuel whispers as his free hand tangles in Sam’s hair. “Tell me no,” he breathes, and Sam can’t--desire and guilt tangling in his gut and clogging his throat. 

Their lips touch, almost chaste at first, and Samuel makes that small, pleased sound again but with an edge of hunger that makes Sam’s dick throb. He opens willingly, unthinking, his hands falling on damp bare skin as the kiss turns fierce and hot, instinct taking over until there’s nothing left but the feel of Samuel’s skin and the taste of his mouth. 

It’s Samuel who pulls back first, a self-satisfied smile playing around his kiss swollen lips. “Will you tell him?” he asks curiously, and the smile breaks free. “Maybe he’d like to watch.” He blinks long and slow, licking Sam’s taste from his lips. “I know my Dean would love it.” 

“I--” Somehow, this feels even more surreal than kissing his twin in the bathroom of an underground bunker. “You and Dean? You’re--”

“We’re soulmates,” Samuel says, as though that should explain everything. “Soulmate siblings are rare, but no one would think to separate them or keep them apart.” His smile is fond but tinged with sadness. “Mary wasn’t thrilled about the lack of grandchildren in her future, but then Jack came into our lives and she was utterly smitten.” 

“I have to tell him,” Sam says, suddenly worried. “I don’t know--I mean--” 

“He loves you,” Samuel says, interrupting. “And we’re all a little freaked out right now. Plus...if he’s anything like _my_ Dean, he’s gonna love the idea of making out with himself.” 

That gets a smile out of Sam. “I think I might enjoy that myself.” He hesitates, blushing a little. “I’m sorry for creeping on you, by the way. I’ve gotten used to having the place to ourselves.” 

Samuel laughs outright. “Sam...did you really think this was an accident? I’ve been thinking about this since about five minutes after we got out of our car. You’ve come to shower at this time every morning since we got here, and Dean and I decided today was the day.” He reaches around Sam to grab a fresh towel from the stack that magically appears every morning, slinging it around his waist and giving Sam a dimpled smile. “I’m going to go update my Dean, and you ought to do the same.” He leans in to brush Sam’s lips with his own one more time. “See you later, Sam.”


End file.
